Your House is Aflame
by runespoor magic
Summary: After Vernon leaves, Petunia and the boy's move in with vampire Amar, Petunia's old college friend. This brings into being a much more cheerful Harry, with many unusual habits. Contains Nice Petunia, vampire babies, house fires, a certain young dark lord, red heads, mysterious happenings, a sullen Dudley, unusual diets, rock music, and a happily dark Harry, all for your pleasure
1. Chapter 1

Summary: After Vernon leaves, Petunia and the boy's move in with vampire Amar, Petunia's old college friend. This brings into being a much more cheerful Harry, with many unusual habits. Happily dark Harry. Probably slash

Rating: T just to be safe, might change later on

Will contain: Nice Petunia, vampire babies, house fires, a certain young dark lord, red heads, mysterious happenings, a sullen Dudley, unusual diets, rock music, and a happily dark Harry, all for your pleasure, or maybe not.

Notes: I know I have a lot of stories started right now, but no worries, I'll get to updating all of them.

 **Your House is Aflame**

After Vernon left, things got better. Not exactly better financially, or spiritually, although Aunt Petunia did take to yoga and meditation, but in general, Harry rather thought that the quality of his life had improved. Mostly in the form of a room of his own, clothes that fit, and three meals a day.

Of course, there was no one there to question exactly why Vernon left in the first place, and that was a good thing for Harry, indeed. There wasn't any way to logically explain how a four year old could have frightened a man enough to get him to leave, which appeared to be exactly what Harry had done.

Things got even better when Petunia moved them to a small college town by the sea to live with an old friend from her own college days, when she was still free from Vernon.

The man's name was Amar, and he owned a funny little shop full of oddities and statues. He gave Petunia a job, and some nice rooms in his upstairs apartment, and when he wasn't calling her Miss Evans with a tiny little smile, he was waving his arms in flailing, expressive gestures and addressing her as Enid, his soul.

Amar could almost always be found smoking a cigarette, listening to rock music, and reading old biology textbooks in a small curtained alcove of his shop. He was very nice to Dudley, while simultaneously changing his diet, and he was similarly kind to Harry, although not entirely in the same way.

Harry was surprised, because even at five years old he could tell that this was not the sort of man that his aunt usually went for. In the past year, it seemed that she only ever went for the beefy, broad, business men who wore suits and drove nice cars. Amar, on the other hand, had dark skin and no hair, and his body was lean and sharp. His mode of dress ranged from long purple robes with twinkling little stars to faded jeans and a black t shirt. He also had two silver studs in his nose, and Harry had never seen him eat anything at all.

"I like him," Harry told Dudley happily while they were at the beach, slurping at his ice cream and pushing at the sand with his bare feet.

Dudley frowned. He did not slurp his ice cream, or put his feet in the sand. Instead, he pulled his knees up so that his feet rested on the towel. Unlike Harry, whose black hair was windswept and whose body was tanned and covered with sand, Dudley was looking a little pink, and his damp hair was sticking to his forehead.

"He's alright," Dudley admitted reluctantly. "I miss my dad."

Harry, who did not miss Vernon, finished off the rest of his ice cream and was now eyeing Dudley's. "Are you going to finish that?" Harry asked.

"I guess not," Dudley said morosely, handing over the cone.

"Thanks," said Harry cheerfully.

When Harry and Dudley were both six, Petunia had a baby, a little girl with Amar's dark skin and Petunia's blue eyes and a tuft of black hair on her tiny head.

"Edan," Amar said, because that was what he had taken to calling Harry. He caught Harry's sharp, pinched face between his two large hands. "You will take care of my Mallory, won't you?"

Harry nodded solemnly, looking down at the baby. He didn't know why Amar was asking him, when Dudley was the brother, but he found himself agreeing anyways. He would teach her to be strong, strong enough to survive cupboards and hunger and mean tempered uncles, at the very least.

When Mallory started getting teeth, it was discovered that she bit.

And not silly baby bites, but sharp animal like bites that bled for hours and stung a little, even days after. On the first occasion, Harry made a mess over the sink with peroxide and bandages and nearly fell of the chair he was standing on when Petunia came into the room.

"Harry!"

"I cut myself with a knife," Harry lied, with a sideways look at his small cousin, because while the general quality of his life had improved, his aunt still seemed to shy away from the non-normal.

Petunia then proceeded to place every sharp knife in the kitchen in the cupboard above the refrigerator, and this was how Amar found them, Harry still on his chair leaning over the sink, Mallory giggling on the floor, and Petunia with an armful of knives and other kitchen utensils.

Amar took Harry's hand in his large one and undid Harry's hastily wrapped bandage. He frowned at the wound and looked at Harry with sad eyes as he rewrapped it. Then he grabbed Harry off of the chair and set him on the ground. "I'll watch Mallory for now," he told Harry seriously. "Go outside and find my Enid's Antaeus," he said, meaning Dudley. "You look like you could use some sun."

Harry gave him a dubious look but did as he was told. "Bye Mal," he told his little cousin as he stepped into his shoes. She threw a block at him and Harry ducked and ran outside. He stayed outside even when the sun hurt his eyes and his head ached, and he didn't find Dudley.

What he did find was a family of red heads, who seemed to be enjoying a short vacation by the sea. He watched the younger ones kicking a worn out ball between them and laughing, and he climbed up out of the shade to join them. "I'm Harry," he said, a little shyly.

"Gred and Forge," the two twins said.

"Did you – "

"– want to play?"

Harry grinned before darting in to kick the ball away from one of them. There was a cry of surprise and then the game was on.

Several hours later, the sun had already set and Harry was lying on his stomach in the sand. The red headed boys were waving goodbye and Dudley was still nowhere to be found, and Harry was horribly, viciously awake.

Petunia was setting the table when he got back to the apartment, and Amar was twirling around the living room with Mallory and Dudley was not at all where Harry thought he would be, but instead sitting on the sofa reading a book.

The dancing stopped when Harry walked in, and Amar fixed him with a considering look.

"I'm not hungry," Harry told his aunt, frowning at the pork roast and the carrots.

"Did you have ice cream at the beach again?" his aunt asked him.

Harry almost said no, he didn't, but then he looked at Amar and Mallory and remembered that his aunt was afraid of non-normal things. "Yes," said Harry instead.

Aunt Petunia felt his forehead. "Are you alright dear?" she asked him. "You look pale and a little feverish. Maybe you should get to bed early."

Harry decided not to tell her that he wasn't tired, and didn't feel like he would be tired ever again. Instead he hopped up the three steps that would take him to his and Dudley's shared bedroom and mostly ignored Amar's sad eyes following him.

He did not fall asleep.

After that, he found two rusty looking pills on the table for him every morning, the same two that Amar took, and the kind that Aunt Petunia crushed up in Mallory's food. On the days Harry took them, he found himself feeling rather content. When he didn't, he was hungry and irritable.

He resolved to keep taking them.

When Harry turned eight, Amar, instead of his usual gifts of books and music and interesting artifacts, presented Harry with a simple black case full of hard candy, in various flavors. Amar told him that no matter how much he ate, the case would continue to replenish itself.

Harry did not ask him why. He seemed to have drawn his own conclusions after a long day of pouring over Amar's old books.

Amar had a lot of books on various subjects, from vampires and werewolves to biology and astrology, and for the most part, Harry and Dudley stayed far away from Amar's vast library, especially since a lot of the subjects went right over their heads.

When it rained, Dudley could usually be found sitting in front of his computer, with Harry at his elbow waiting impatiently for his turn. This rain, however, found Harry sitting underneath Amar's desk, incense smoking around him and a little light in his hand because the power was out.

He had on his knees a thin little leather bound book, which was full of sketches and notes written in Amar's meticulous hand writing.

It seemed to be mostly about vampires. And magic. And Harry believed it whole heartedly.

The book seemed to be an outline of basic vampirism and how it reacted to a wizard's biology. From what Harry could gather, it seemed that the rust colored pills he took each morning worked with his magic to slate any blood lust he might feel. And he continued to grow because his magical core was still growing, and he had to be big enough to contain it.

"I've grown two inches," Harry told him a few months later when Petunia was out doing the shopping and Dudley was out.

Amar looked up from the log castle he was building for Mallory. "Have you?" he asked.

Harry crouched in front of him. "So, I must be a wizard, right?"

Amar raised his eyebrows. "I don't know where you could've heard a thing like that," he said, which Harry took to mean yes indeed.

"Am I going to go to Wizard school then?" Harry asked.

"Would you like to go to Wizard school?" Amar returned.

Harry gave him a look that he hoped would read as yes, of course, and Amar smiled at him. "I don't know how it works exactly," Amar said, "but I believe you'll get a letter when you're eleven."

"What about Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked.

"We'll tell her you're gifted," Amar said with a smile.

TBC

If anyone is interested, here are some name meanings:

Amar – immortal (as in Amar is a vampire)

Antaeus – one who is opposite (as in Dudley is the opposite of Harry)

Edan – little fire (as in Harry's personality)

Enid – spirit or soul (as in Amar thinks of Petunia like his soul mate)

Mallory – unlucky (as in Amar has a terribly foreboding feeling about his daughter)


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: After Vernon leaves, Petunia and the boy's move in with vampire Amar, Petunia's old college friend. This brings into being a much more cheerful Harry, with many unusual habits. Happily dark Harry. Probably slash

Rating: T just to be safe, might change later on

Will contain: Photographs, attic exploration, unusual diets, nice Petunia, Hogwarts's letters, birthdays, missing fathers, Diagon Alley, books, a certain dark lord, rare Potion's ingredients, and a happily dark Harry, all for your pleasure, or maybe not.

Notes: Is anyone else having a hard time seeing their reviews? I swear this story has one review, but when I look, nothing shows up. Any ideas what the problem could be?

To the person who reviewed: I'm sorry I can't see your review but thank you anyway! I hope you didn't have a question or a concern.

Happy New Years! Don't forget to review!

 **Your House is Aflame**

Because Harry had been taught at a young age not to ask his aunt any questions, he never did ask about his parents, or how they died, or even the mysterious circumstances that had brought him to the Dursley household in the first place. He had never even seen a picture of them, and this thought did not even occur to him until one melancholy grey morning when Dudley wandered in late to breakfast.

"Mum," the blond boy said, standing in the door way and looking a little lost. He waited until his mother looked up from her eggs to smile at him and say good morning. "Mum," he repeated. "Can I have some pictures of my real dad?"

Harry thought a lesser man would have slipped out of the room, but Amar merely poured himself some coffee. For a moment the only sound in the room was Mallory, who was now a toddler, banging her fork on the table.

Aunt Petunia started to speak, but then Harry jumped in. "If you give Dudley pictures of _his_ real dad, can I have some of mine? And my mum?"

There was another awkward pause and Petunia looked flustered. "I – let me see what I can find."

Dudley and Harry exchanged dubious looks across the kitchen behind Petunia's back. Harry jerked his head towards the stairs and Dudley nodded once before sliding into his chair and piling his plate full of eggs and bacon.

Harry just sniffed at his food and sighed.

After breakfast, the two nine year old boys convened in their shared bedroom. "We should call this Operation Photograph," Harry said, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

"Do you think there's an attic?" Dudley asked. "In movies they always look in the attic."

Harry grinned. "I think there's a door next to Mal's room."

The attic only had a single light, which could only be turned on or off by a grimy string hanging from the bulb. There was also a tiny window that was covered in a layer of filth. The entire room was dusty and cluttered with boxes and old furniture. It didn't look like anyone had been up there in a long time.

The first thing Harry opened up was an old black trunk, which was full of clothes and fabrics and boots that looked a little scaly. The label on the inside of the boots said dragon hide, but Harry wasn't very inclined to believe it.

Out of curiosity, Harry pulled the boots onto his feet and nearly fell back in shock when they shrank to fit his small feet perfectly.

"That is so cool," he said reverently.

There were several robes in the trunk, similar to the ones Amar wore occasionally, all in various sizes and colors and patterns. Most of them seemed rather exotic, and Harry assumed that Amar probably used to sell them in the shop downstairs.

As Dudley worked his way through a box of old books, Harry pulled out a long orange, almost red scarf. It had a pattern on it in faint lines of yellow and green that Harry thought could have either been sunbursts or flowers. He draped the scarf over his head and shoulders, like he saw his aunt do sometimes when she went out in the sun, and turned to another box.

"What's Hogwarts?" Dudley asked, after coughing out a mouthful of dust.

"No idea," Harry said cheerfully. "What have you got over there? Books?" He climbed over a springy old couch that was a startling shade of green to reach the other side of the attic where his cousin stood.

"School books, I think," Dudley said, eyeing the book dubiously.

Harry grabbed it out of his hands. Hogwarts, a History, he read. Whatever it was, it sounded awesome. Could this be…was this the Wizard school Amar had mentioned?

Harry grinned to himself.

They did not find the photographs that day, or the day after, but Amar did not seem to mind their exploration of his attic. In fact, more often than not, he stuck his head in the door to the rickety attic stairs and called up advice.

Petunia did not seem to be aware of their exploration, and the boys were glad of her ignorance. Harry couldn't imagine that she would be pleased with the amount of clearly magical items that could be found in the attic, such as the music box that worked without any batteries and seemed to make the user fall asleep, or what looked to be a giant bird feeder full of a silvery substance.

When the dark haired nine year old started spending his nights exploring the attic, Amar decided that they might as well turn the attic into a room for Harry. After that, he, Dudley, and Harry made quick work of the room and the boxes, although the majority of the mess seemed to clean itself up when Dudley and Harry were outside playing.

The photographs were found too, a box full of old frames and scattered pictures for Dudley, and several old albums for Harry. Harry didn't think to ask how his mother's old photo albums could have ended up in Amar's attic. He couldn't have known that the man had procured them from the wreckage of Harry's old house when the Dursley's had come to live with Amar, or that Amar had restored all of the pictures with a simple spell.

Harry was not sure how Amar had gotten his aunt to stay away from the attic, but he must have because Petunia did not bring up the exotic state of Harry's new bedroom, which was now full of old Hogwarts textbooks, colorful robes, moving pictures, his very own set of chocolate frog cards and the springy green sofa that he had previously climbed over.

By this point, Harry was ten, and had learned from his magical books exactly who he was and how his parents had died. Personally, he didn't believe it one bit. He didn't think a baby could take on a dark lord, unless it was a baby like his cousin Mallory, and only then if she bit him hard enough.

The year seemed to pass mostly without incident. Harry and Dudley spent most of it in school, Petunia and Amar kept working the shop, and Mallory kept growing. She was four years old now, and went to school every other day.

Harry spent his nights exploring his textbooks happily, and pouring over his mum's photo albums. He couldn't help but wonder, every night, why his godfather had never come for him when he was miserable at the Dursley's for years, or even the other two men his father seemed close to, Remus and Peter. He was hurt over it, but he told himself maybe they couldn't find him.

He had been left on a doorstep after all, and Harry was sure that in the normal world, something like that wouldn't have ever been allowed. Maybe that was true of the Wizarding world too. Maybe this was all some kind freak incident.

Harry just couldn't help but feel slightly abandoned, even though he was happy now with Amar and Mallory and Petunia and Dudley. What kind of people forgot about their best friend's son? What kind of world forgot about their supposed savior?

Despite the thoughts that troubled him at night, Harry was extraordinarily pleased when Amar discreetly passed him his Hogwarts letter as he swallowed down his pills the morning of his eleventh birthday.

Petunia, who was quite distracted with Dudley's pleas to go to Smelting's like Vernon, merely smiled and said "that's nice, dear," when Harry told her he was accepted into a school in Scotland for gifted children.

Harry was starting to wonder if Petunia could be under a spell to ignore everything unusual or magical, because she seemed quite unaware of all of the things happening right under her very nose, such as the fact that her boyfriend, her daughter, and her nephew all seemed to be vampire/wizard hybrids.

"Enid," Amar declared. "I'm going to bring Harry into London for his birthday, alright?"

Petunia merely nodded. "Have a nice time, love."

Amar grinned at Harry, who ran up the stairs to go change into what he decided would be his wizard ensemble. He needed a disguise, after all. It was his birthday. He didn't want to be shaking hands and giving out his autograph.

When Harry returned to the kitchen, he had the orange and green scarf that he had found in the attic wrapped once more around his head and his shoulders, successfully holding down his bangs to cover up his scar. He had a relatively normal pair of sneakers on, but the package he had found them in had claimed that they were specially designed to make his movement soundless. Much to Petunia's great relief, Harry was not wearing robes, but what appeared to be perfectly ordinary jeans and a t shirt.

Amar shook his head.

"What?"

"That's a bit bright, don't you think? A bit memorable?"

Harry, who could see the down fall of having a memorable disguise, nodded reluctantly. As soon as they were out the door and out of Petunia's view, Amar rapped Harry on the head with what the boy now knew was a wand. His orange and green scarf faded to a plain black and Harry sighed.

"Come on then, little fire," Amar said.

Much to Harry's surprise, all Amar did was take them down the stairs and into his small oddities shop. He pulled his purple, star covered robe on over his clothes, handed Harry a large pouch of gold, and tapped his wand on the front door of the shop in a distinct pattern.

In an instant, the curtains flew open, the open sign lit up, and Amar's shop seemed to come alive.

Harry stared. Amar grinned.

While Harry stood frozen to one spot, a feeble looking old man in black robes and a pointed hat came through the door. A small bell ringed reproachfully. "Morning Amar," he croaked. "Has my order come in?"

"Good morning," Amar said pleasantly. He pulled out a handwritten ledger and peered at it. "It was the…clock, wasn't it, Mr. Anderson? Cherry wood, intricate designs." He made a noise of disapproval. "I'd be careful with that one, sir. The last owner was found blown to smithereens."

Several more people came into the shop, each looking more eccentric then the next.

"Are you still holding that fork, Amar? What about that silver knife? Looks just like my mother's." Said a young woman with nappy hair and a gaudy cloak.

"Excuse me, Amar, has my cloak come in yet? I've been waiting a month you know."

"What about those used books – "

"Good lord, look at this hair pin –"

"Amar! My good man. How is your daughter?"

Amar met Harry's eyes over the heads of his flocks of customers and Harry grinned widely at him before darting out the door. The street outside was not the seaside college town that Harry was used to seeing. Instead, there was a street in front of him that was full of life and color and sound.

Everyone was rushing around in a buzz, in long robes and funny hats, children trailing after their parents and owls hooting in shop windows. When he turned around, he found that he could see the attic window from where he was standing. It was open, just like he'd left it, and Harry couldn't believe that he'd never seen this before.

The shop, which usually looked like a non-descript little place with cloudy windows that seemed to lean a little to the side, looked entirely transformed. Harry could see now that the building actually was leaning, their upstairs apartment slanted to one side. The windows weren't cloudy so much as swirling with purple smoke and the entire outside looked fresh and new. The sign, in curling, slanted letters, read: _Siphons and Souls_ _– Artifacts, solutions, used books and more! Irregular hours! Monsters welcome! Mind your paws, and keep your fangs to yourself!_

Harry couldn't get rid of the grin on his face. This whole time he'd been living in a magical shop on a magical street and he hadn't even known it. He wondered what Aunt Petunia would say if she knew.

With a little skip, Harry started off down the street, pulling out his Hogwarts letter as he went. He had no idea where to go first. For the first time, Harry was actually delighted that he couldn't sleep. Maybe he could actually do some exploring during the night hours, or maybe Amar would let him help out in the shop.

Still grinning, Harry made his way over to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He had robes, lots of robes, patterned and multicolored and strange. However, he did not have any plain black work robes, which he thought sounded rather boring.

"Hogwarts, dear?" Madam Malkin asked him?

Harry smiled widely at her, and was relieved when she didn't flinch away from his crowded mouth of small, sharp teeth. "That's right, ma'am," he said happily. "If I needed some robes shrunk, would this be the place to come?" he asked, remembering the multitude of robes that didn't fit him.

Madam Malkin smiled at him. "Absolutely, my dear."

The shop was practically empty, but Harry surmised that this must be because it was barely even eight o'clock. "How late are you open?" he asked as she stood him up on a stool and draped a long black robe over his head.

"Nine this evening," she said.

Harry chewed his lower lip. "Are there any places open after nine?" he asked.

"There's quite a few shops in Knockturn that are open quite late," Madam Malkin told him. "Although you look a bit young to be going there. There's Siphons and Souls across the street, but of course the vampire who owns it never keeps regular hours –"

"That's where I live," Harry told her.

She looked up in surprise. "I thought Amar had a daughter," she said.

Harry shrugged. "I'm his nephew," said Harry. "We all live there, Amar and Mallory and my aunt and my cousin and me."

"That's wonderful," Madam Malkin said. "I did hope that that little girl had a mother." When Harry assured her that she did, the woman went on. "My daughter gets all of her tea from that shop, and it's where I get the thread for my robes. It's a wonderful place, you're quite lucky to live there."

Harry grinned and agreed. "I'll be back with the rest of my robes," he told her, hopping down and handing her the coins she asked for.

Madam Malkin waved him off. "Don't worry about the money, dear, I'll put it on Amar's tab."

Harry walked out of the shop, swinging his bag of robes and still smiling quietly, passing a blond boy with a pointed face on the way out.

He brought his robes back into Siphons and Souls and stuck them under the counter where Amar kept his ledgers. "This is the best birthday present ever!" he exclaimed. "How did I never notice this before?"

"Trade secrets," Amar said with a smile. "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

Harry grinned at him. "Can I work here?"

"Ask me again in a few years, little fire," Amar said. "Now off you get. You'll scare away all the customers."

Harry bought his books next, and paid the shop keeper extra to charm them feather light. He also purchased a trunk with 3 secret compartments and a new cloak. The cloak was black with silver buckles, just as his letter said, but it was equipped with heating and cooling charms, and had another spell that made it repel the rain.

This was mostly for Harry's amusement more than anything else, because as a vampire the hot and the cold no longer caused him any discomfort. He avoided Eeylops Owl Emporium, mostly because of the smell, and spent the rest of the morning until lunch browsing the candy shop for vampire friendly candy.

He had his case of course, the one full of hard candy, but those were mostly in tropical flavors, whereas the candy shop seemed to have quite the supply of blood pops. Harry thought he was in heaven. In the candy shop, he ran into two tall red heads, but before he could find out if they were 'Gred and Forge' from the beach, their mother was calling them away.

After that, Harry stumbled upon the Apothecary, where he stumbled straight into a man in billowing black robes. In his excitement, he hadn't been paying the least attention to where he was going.

"Sorry, sir!" he squeaked when the man gave him a dark, angry glare.

"Who was that?" he asked the owner several minutes later when the man had gone.

"Ah yes," the owner said. "That would be Professor Snape. He teaches Potions at Hogwarts, and it would do you well to stay on his good side."

Harry gulped.

The last shop on Harry's list was Ollivanders, and it was narrow and shabby. The letters on the sign were peeling off and the tiny place seemed damp and crowded. The very dust and silence there seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice, and Harry turned to look at the man. He started to smile and return the greeting, but Ollivander was already shaking his head.

"I do apologize, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid I don't have anything for you. No, I'm sorry. I don't have any wands that would be suited for you at all."

Harry stared at him, filled with a terrible sinking feeling. "None at all?" he asked, trying to reign in his feelings.

Ollivander shook his head. "You'll need a far darker core than what I can supply. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. I believe you'll have to try The Rare Vampire in Knockturn, or see if Siphons and Souls can supply you with something."

Harry sighed and felt his shoulders slump, but the wand maker was already turning to the next customer who had just stepped in. Spirits low, Harry trudged back home with his books and trunk in tow. Maybe this was all too good to be true. Maybe he wasn't really a wizard, and that's why Ollivander couldn't give him a wand.

"What is it?" Amar asked him as Harry stared mournfully at the wrapped present waiting for him on the table, after Harry had returned all of his new belongings to his room.

Harry sighed. "They couldn't give me a wand," he said softly. "I mean, I should have known it was too good to be – "

"Edan," Amar said sharply. "Did they say you couldn't have a wand?"

Harry slouched in his chair. "No."

"What did they say?"

"That I needed a …a darker core, or something, but –"

Amar shook his head. "You're going to have a wand," he promised. "We'll go find one for you tonight, me you and Mallory, alright?"

"Yes, but –"

"Alright?" Amar repeated.

Harry sighed and nodded.

It didn't take long to get Harry's robes shrunken down for him by Madam Malkin, and so by nine o'clock he was stumbling back to the front of Siphons and Souls to wait for Amar and Mallory.

The five year old was dressed like a princess in an elegant pink cloak with golden buckles and Amar was wearing his familiar purple robes. Together, they walked over to Knockturn Alley in the moonlight, the five year old in between them asking awed, delighted questions about the Alley around them.

The shop they soon found themselves in was neither Ollivanders nor The Rare Vampire. It was a tiny place that Harry almost didn't see until they were stumbling upon it, and instead of a large sign, there was a tiny gold plaque on the door that proclaimed: _Devastation_

Harry followed Amar and Mallory inside.

TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: After Vernon leaves, Petunia and the boy's move in with vampire Amar, Petunia's old college friend. This brings into being a much more cheerful Harry, with many unusual habits. Happily dark Harry. Probably slash

Rating: T just to be safe, might change later on

Will contain: wands, baby vampires, a trip to Knockturn Alley, night time adventures, friendship, redheads, a certain dark lord, train rides, bookworms, toads, and a happily dark Harry, although not necessarily all at once.

Notes: Still unable to see my reviews, and it's not just this story that I'm having a problems with. So technical difficulties I guess? If anyone knows anything about this, could you PM me? Thanks

To those that reviewed, I'm really really excited about the reviews, and I cannot wait to read them! Thank you for your support c:

 **Your House is Aflame**

Devastation didn't quite live up to its name, in Harry's opinion. There was no foreboding sense of doom, no prickly feeling of secret ancient magic. It was a narrow, two story building with ornately carved walls and a fire in the hearth. Above the hearth was an animated painting of two witches having a duel.

The furniture was simple. There was a desk to the side of the room with a tall spindly chair and on it sat a small, weathered witch with a long hooked nose and plain black robes.

Harry looked around in confusion. He didn't see shelves of wands like he had in Ollivanders. As a matter of fact, Harry didn't see a single wand anywhere.

Amar patted his shoulder. "Mal and I are going upstairs for a quick drink," he said with a rather wicked grin.

"Erm…" Harry stared at him. "I thought we were here for my wand?"

Amar just smiled at him and nodded at the woman at the desk. "Why don't you ask her about it?" he asked, before taking Mallory's hand and disappearing up a rather rickety looking stair case on the opposite side of the room from the desk.

Harry stared after him, feeling ridiculous and lost.

"Um, excuse me ma'am?" he said, slowly approaching the desk.

The woman eyed him suspiciously. "This is a vampire's only establishment, young man."

"Um, yeah," Harry said. "That's me. Er, you know what I mean."

The woman pulled herself up in the chair and looked down her nose at him. "Indeed."

Harry wondered if he could pull the boy-who-lived card on her, but then he remembered that his scarf was obscuring his scar, and that she was a vampire, and probably wouldn't care. "Uh," Harry wet his lips nervously. "If I were looking for a wand, which, incidentally, I am, and I needed to have a, er, darker core than what you could find at Ollivander's, where would I go?"

The woman did not look particularly impressed with him. "You might try Gregorovitch's."

The name sounded foreign to Harry's ears. "Maybe somewhere in Knockturn Alley," he suggested, shifting his weight anxiously.

She continued to look down her nose at Harry, looking fierce and formidable from her towering chair. "There is nowhere in Knockturn Alley that services wands to vampires, boy."

Harry sighed and turned away, resolving to find Amar and talk to him about finding Gregorovitch's. But where the stairs had been previously, there was now a door, which was soot blackened and seemed to be warped with age. Harry glanced backwards at the woman, but her expression was impassive.

He started for the door. The handle was cool to the touch, but then everything felt that way to Harry's desensitized body. There could have been a fire on the other side of the door, and he would not have known.

It creaked when it opened and dragged loudly across the floor, and when Harry turned to apologize for the noise, he found that the woman and the desk were gone too. In her place were several tall leaded glass windows. The windows did not appear to show the street at all, but a mirror of the room they were standing in. Through the window Harry could see someone that looked just like him, with a black scarf covering their head and a pale, angular face with wide green eyes looking at him concernedly.

Why had Amar brought him here?

Harry then glanced at the hearth, but the fire had gone out. The painting above it had gone as well, and had transformed into an iron mask with a demonic face and a frenzied expression. Harry then looked back to the door he had hauled open. The inside of the room was not a room at all, but a cliff that broke off into grey, churning water and jagged rocks.

He took a step back, forcing back the panic that churned his stomach. Amar was like…like a second father. There was no way he brought Harry here to let him die, or even to hurt him.

Right?

When he came back to the center of the room, the mask fell from the wall and landed in the empty hearth. Unsure of what to do, but entirely unable to stop his curiosity, Harry picked up the mask and held it for a moment.

He turned it over, studied it, and then held it up to his face. Through the eyes of the mask, the room was as before, the woman impassive at her desk and the staircase across from it. The fire was burning and Harry stepped back.

He took the mask off, looking down at the words engraved on the inside. " _Interiora vide_ ," he read aloud. As soon as he said the words, it was no longer a mask, but a wand, twisted and metallic in appearance. He looked back at the woman, who did not appear to have noticed anything unusual.

"If you take the stairs immediately to your left," she said, "You will find your guardian. I don't have time for stupid questions, young man."

Harry turned and ran up the stairs.

The next month passed quickly. Amar didn't ask about the wand, and Harry didn't tell him. He was almost afraid of it, because every time he touched it, he remembered the demonic face.

Petunia brought him to the station, reminding to write, to her and to Mallory. "I don't want her to forget all about you," she said, helping him maneuver his trunk onto a cart.

After she drove away, Harry looked down at his ticket with a small frown. Platform 9 ¾ ? Amar hadn't said anything about that, and Harry couldn't help but feel annoyed. Amar seemed to have a penchant for telling Harry very little, if anything at all. He seemed to prefer when Harry figured out everything himself.

Harry didn't ask the guard how to get on the platform, inside opting to wait quietly, _anxiously_ , for anyone who appeared to be going the same way. He kept his eyes open for owls and trunks.

At that moment, a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"– packed with Muggles, of course – "

Harry sighed in relief and turned round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like his in front of them, and they had an owl.

Harry grinned. They looked just like the family he had met ages ago at the beach, and if he had to hazard a guess, he would say they were. He pushed his cart after them a bit more cheerfully.

"Now what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand. "Mum, can't I go…?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched towards platform nine and ten, and harry watched as he dove between the two platforms. That was just like wizards, hiding everything right in plain sight.

The next two boys, who Harry noted were called Fred and George, walked briskly towards the barrier and disappeared.

Harry, who was both excited and a little unnerved, decided that there wasn't anything for it. He would have to ask, just to be sure. There was no way he'd be running head first at a wall without all of the details.

"Excuse me," he said to the woman.

"Hello dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

Harry found himself slightly jealous over the other boy's height, seeing as Harry barely came up to the other's shoulder. He was glad, however, that the boy was not tan, as he would have been quite jealous of that too. Harry had lost his tan when he became a vampire, and he did not expect to get it back anytime soon.

"Yes," Harry said. "The thing is, I'm not entirely sure how to – " he gestured blankly at the wall between platforms nine and ten.

"How to get on the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop, and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

Harry chewed his lip. "Yes, alright," he said. He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. With a calm he didn't quite feel, Harry jogged towards the barrier. Of course, running into walls wasn't going to kill him, but he still preferred to avoid the pain of the experience.

The pain didn't come and Harry blinked into the sudden light of the platform. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to the platform filled with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw an iron wrought archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

With a sharp little grin to himself and a skip in his step, Harry jostled his way through the crowd, passing a round faced boy called Neville who had lost his toad. Harry pressed on past them until he found a compartment near the end of the train.

It was harder than he thought it would be to get his trunk up the steps, but then the red headed twins he had followed through the barrier offered him a hand.

When they started to introduce themselves, Harry grinned, thankful that neither of them flinched from his teeth. "I know," he said. "Gred and Forge."

They offered him twin expressions of surprise and Harry remembered the scarf he had tied to his head, this time in a more bandana type fashion, and the fact that he had long since shed his glasses. He jerked off the scarf and shoved it into his pocket.  
"I'm Harry."

"Harry!" Fred exclaimed, his face lighting up in recognition.

"What's that?" George said suddenly, pointing at Harry's scar.  
"Are you – "

"You are, aren't you – "

Harry stared at them blankly.

"You're _Harry Potter_!" they chorused together.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Do you mean to tell me that we played with _Harry Potter_ –"

" _The_ Harry Potter – "

"And we didn't even know?"

Harry shrugged, looking a bit bemused. "I don't know what to tell you."

The boys disappeared when their mother called them and Harry watched the family interact with interest. They were talking about him, and he grinned a little to himself before settling down in his seat and getting comfortable. He had a good feeling about this compartment, and about the redheaded bunch outside.

O

Review? What House should Harry be in, and who should he meet on the train?

With my technical difficulties right now, I can't read reviews, so I'm going to be putting up a poll for this story, one for Harry's house and one for his friends. I would absolutely love your feedback, so please take the time to answer the poll. Thank you so much c:

Latin Translation:

Interiora vide: Look within


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: After Vernon leaves, Petunia and the boy's move in with vampire Amar, Petunia's old college friend. This brings into being a much more cheerful Harry, with many unusual habits. Happily dark Harry. Probably slash

Rating: T just to be safe, might change later on

Will contain: Train rides, Sorting hats, bookworms, purebloods, toads, vampires, Hogwarts, a giant man, a diary and a dark lord, and a happily dark Harry, but not in that order.

Notes: I can see my reviews now! Thanks for all of the support everyone! You guys are so awesome c: So far it seems that the majority of people are leaning towards putting Harry in Slytherin and having him continue to interact with the twins and some dark purebloods. I've also set up a new poll for Harry's future pairing. Please take the time to answer it !

How are you feeling about Snape? Good Snape? Bad Snape? Misguided or blind Snape?

What about Sirius? Is he secretly a Death Eater? Does he break out of Azkaban in Third Year? Is he dating Remus?

And more importantly, is Dumbledore good, evil, or just painfully misguided?

Let me know in the reviews!

 **Your House is Aflame**

Much to Harry's dismay, he did not encounter anymore redheads on the train, despite his positive feelings towards them. What he did encounter was a group of somber faced children dressed in what could only be the latest fashions. There was a slight blonde boy flanked by what Harry assumed were his body guards, a prim pug-nosed little girl, and a heavier, dark haired girl called Millicent Bulstrode. Harry thought that was a rather unfortunate name.

The other two were called Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, and the bodyguards simply Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe was round faced boy and Goyle was rather square, and both of them were mostly silent aside from a few grunts.

The compartment was a bit small for six people, especially with the way the purebloods lounged about, and Harry perched in the corner with his knees pulled up and his elbows in, trying to keep his limbs to himself. Upon their arrival, they had all scrutinized Harry rather closely, and so he was relieved when no one cried 'vampire' and ran to get a stake. In retrospect, Harry was also glad that he had shoved his scarf into his pocket, because Pansy's eyes were particularly sharp.

"I would have thought you might have clothing of a more fashionable style," she said, turning her nose up. "What with your status and all."

Harry thought wistfully of his exotic set of robes back home and decided to write Amar and ask if he could send them over. Pansy would probably find them atrocious.

"You'll have to excuse me," Harry said, trying to imitate Draco's drawl. "I left my more fashionable clothing at home. I didn't want to give the impression that I was flaunting my wealth."

Draco sniffed at him. "My father says that if you have the opportunity to display your wealth, you should always do so."

Harry's mouth quirked as Pansy began to convey her agreement. He met Millicent's eye across the compartment and she smiled back a little tentatively.

"And I suppose your father is always right about these matters, is he?"

Draco huffed. "Of course he is, Potter."

Harry smirked behind his hand. He hadn't taken his pills this morning, considering Amar had sent them on ahead to the infirmary, and his already crowded mouth of sharp teeth felt even sharper. His gums felt sensitive and when he tried to shut his mouth one of the pointed incisors caught his bottom lip and made it bleed.

Harry jumped out of his seat. "I'm going to go find the snack trolley," he said, still covering his mouth with his hand. He quickly fled the compartment.

It didn't take long to hunt down the trolley. He just followed his nose until he found it, outside of a compartment with a bushy haired girl, the boy called Neville who had lost his toad, a redhead with a corned beef sandwich, and a sandy haired boy he didn't know.

Harry immediately purchased all of the blood pops in sight, and a blood supplement powder that could be mixed with carbonated water. Harry bought two bottles, and a couple of sugar quills for good measure.

"Forget your pills this morning?" the woman at the trolley asked. She shook her head in sympathy. "You're the third one today."

"I'm not the only one?" Harry asked in surprise, his words muffled by his hand.

"Oh no, dear," the woman laughed. "Vampirism is a lot more common at Hogwarts then you'd think," she said. "There's not nearly as many restrictions on vampires as there are on other creature populations. It's considered more of a disease than anything."

Harry blinked at her, then snatched up his purchases and returned to his compartment, mixing the blood powder with his drink as he walked. When he entered, he found two more people had squeezed into the small space, a thin boy with an angular face called Theodore Nott, and a tall dark boy named Blaise Zabini.

Harry had to take long steps over people's legs and feet to reach his own spot in the corner, where he hunkered down with his drink and his sugar quills and his blood pops and thought longingly of quieter, less crowded spaces.

"I'm Harry Potter," he told the new arrivals after his teeth became slightly less prominent. "It's a pleasure to meet you, of course."

Personally, Harry thought that this whole train ride was something of a disaster, and he had a strong feeling that wherever this group was sorted, he'd likely be joining them. After all, he was doing an excellent job imitating their behavior. Harry consoled himself with thoughts of how perfectly wonderful it would be to explore the castle that night, which was exactly why he had worn his soundproof shoes and why he had been practicing his Disillusionment Charm with his new, frightening wand.

"What exactly is your wand made out of, Potter?" Blaise asked him, eyeing it.

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Did you get it at Ollivanders?" Pansy said.

"I got it in Knockturn," Harry answered. It wasn't exactly a lie.

The crowd around him made several impressed noises. "You're allowed in Knockturn Alley?" Draco asked.

"My guardian took me," Harry said.

"Oh thank goodness," Pansy said. "We were all so worried that you were raised by common _Muggles_."

"My father will be pleased to hear that you have had a proper wizarding upbringing," said Draco.

"And mine as well," Theo said.

Harry bit off the end of his sugar quill a bit viciously and tried not to glare. Just because his aunt and Dudley were Muggles didn't mean that he had had less than a stellar upbringing.

The only person in the room who seemed to pick up on Harry's mood was the unfortunately named Millicent Bulstrode. She flashed Harry a tiny smile and Harry saw two rows of small sharp teeth. He tossed her a blood pop out of his stash and she caught it easily.

"How are the dorms laid out in Slytherin?" Harry asked. Whatever happened, Harry decided he wanted Millicent as his roommate. Then he wouldn't have to worry about waking up his dorm mates with his nocturnal habits.

His hopes were dashed when he was told there were separate dorms for girls and boys.

When they finally arrived at Hogwarts, it was already dark and Harry was more than ready to be parted from his year mates. He didn't stick around to wait for them, but he ended up squashed into a boat with Pansy and Blaise anyway.

Try as he might, Harry could not separate himself from them, even when they entered the castle and were gathered into a line to be sorted. As Harry expected, everyone he was seated with on the train was sorted into Slytherin without a moment's hesitation, and went trotting off to the green and silver table.

When Harry's name was called, a hush fell over the crowd. Harry sat down under the hat feeling rather resigned to his fate.

"So sure you'll be in Slytherin, Mr. Potter?" the Hat asked inside his head.

Harry sighed. "It does seem rather likely, don't you think?"

The Hat agreed with him. "Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. If you're quite sure…?"

Harry thought about the wand in his pocket and the words on the inside of the mask. _Interiora vide_. Look within. The words felt like they were meant for him. The wand was meant for him. The mask.

Slytherin was a house of survival. A house that one had to wear a mask in to survive.

"I'm sure," he told the Hat firmly.

"SLYTHERIN," the Hat shouted, and Harry walked to the table with his head high amid the smattering of applause. He could hear the Weasley twins' wails of disappointment and he smiled as he sat down.

Maybe Slytherin wouldn't be so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: After Vernon leaves, Petunia and the boys move in with vampire Amar, Petunia's old college friend. This brings into being a much more cheerful Harry, with many unusual habits. Happily dark Harry. Probably slash.

Rating: T just to be safe, might change later on

Will contain: Sorting hats, somewhat pleasant Slytherins, purebloods, a giant man, a diary and a dark lord, Wolfstar (Yay!), and a happily dark Harry, for the most part.

Notes: I'm sorry for the wait! It may be a poor excuse, but I've been absolutely buried in homework since January, and due to some technical difficulties I lost all of my notes and in progress chapters and all of my original work outside of fanfiction. So again, very sorry! I'll try to update on a more regular basis now! And thank you for all the lovely reviews! I'm sorry this is so short, by the way, I'm just trying to get back in the habit of writing. Longer chapter next time, I promise.

On another note, the votes have come in for a misguided/good Dumbledore/Snape, a Slytherin Harry (as you already know), either a Tom/Harry or Blaise/Harry pairing, Wolfstar, Sirius escaping in second year instead of third, and a good Sirius and Remus who do not die. I'll do my best to work all of that in. Thank you for the feedback!

Please continue to review!

 **Your House is Aflame**

Harry was wrong.

Slytherin was worse than he expected. The House dynamics were not something he was entirely used to and that somewhat threw him. His year mates, on one side, seemed relatively unbothered by his presence, if not downright pleased. But the older years were all kinds of varying degrees of unpleasant.

By the time the Sorting was over and the Headmaster had risen for a short, rather absurd little speech, Harry was thanking the gods that he already had a handle on how to deal with bullies, courtesy of Vernon and (formerly) Dudley.

Somehow, he managed to effect an air of boredom and to continue imitating Draco's pureblooded drawl. It was almost like the Muggle game of charades that he liked to play with his aunt every once in a while and somewhere between deflecting questions and returning insults, he decided he might like to keep it up for a while.

An exercise in acting, if you will.

Harry sipped a little at some pumpkin juice and pushed some food around his plate with no intentions of eating it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Millicent doing the same and he grinned a little at her. "Are you quite sure about the living arrangements?" he asked Draco, who was sitting between them.

Draco sniffed. "Whatever your thinking, it's hardly appropriate pureblood behavior, Potter. Or did your guardians teach you nothing?"

"Ah," Harry said wisely. "But I'm not a pureblood."

A few people around them turned to glower at Harry, and Blaise nudged him sharply in the ribs. "That's not something you want to advertise, Potter."

After that, the night passed mostly without incident, save the sharp stabbing pain in Harry's head when he occasionally sent a glance towards the staff table. Eventually, he found himself in the Slytherin common rooms, sandwiched in between Theo and Blaise.

Professor Snape gave a short speech, most of which Harry missed, as Blaise was whispering in his ear.

"Potter?" he asked. "What are your plans for Slytherin?"

"My plans?" Harry asked, arching his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Blaise tugged him a little closer, lowering his voice until he was sure no one could hear him. "Yes, Potter," he said dryly. "Plans. Do try and keep up. If you want to survive in Slytherin, you had best have a plan. The older years look ready to eat you alive, and Professor Snape doesn't appear to be particularly enamored by you."

Harry glanced up to find Snape glaring in their direction. "That might be because we're talking right now," he pointed out.

"Potter," Blaise said seriously, as if he hadn't spoken. "This is a hierarchy. If you want to survive, you'll have to come out on top. Do you know what that means?"

Harry sighed. "You know I don't," he muttered.

"It means you have to make _connections_ ," Blaise hissed. "It means showing up for every meal and making nice with the older years, and at the same time, making sure no one walks all over you. It means coming out on top in every class, staying out of trouble, and getting House points. Can you do that?"

Harry stared at Blaise, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I assume you're getting something from telling me this?" he asked.

"Obviously. A connection to you. Didn't your guardians teach you anything?"

Harry blinked slowly. "They prefer to let me figure things out on my own," he said, a little blankly.

Blaise snorted. "It's that kind of Gryffindorish thinking that will get you into trouble, Potter. You'd best stick with me."

Blaise found him again in the morning, skulking outside the library. "Potter," he hissed, sounding exasperated. "What are you doing?" He grimaced as he got closer. "And what on earth are you wearing?"

Harry looked down at himself. He'd owled Amar last night to have him send his more comfortable robes, and so he was decked out in a pleasant shade of lavender and wearing his dragon hide boots. "I'm sorry?"

Blaise gripped his arm tightly and started to drag him down the hall. "Breakfast, Potter. We talked about this. You have to be present during meal times so you can build connections with people outside your year."

"But I don't –"

"And the dress code, Potter. You can't wear that, Merlin. You're lucky it's still early. I doubt any ones seen you yet. You need to change immediately."

Harry stifled his own protest and allowed himself to be manhandled back to the dungeons. He had a feeling that this would not have happened if he'd been rooming with Millicent, who he'd spent the night exploring the castle with. Millicent did not appear to be quite aware of things like the Slytherin hierarchy and good fashion taste, and he rather liked that about her.

"What about friendships?" he asked, pulling a black robe overtop of his clothes as Blaise frowned in the doorway.

"What about them?"

"I mean, how will I have time to make friends if I'm busy making all of these connections?"

Blaise looked blank. "Aren't they the same thing?"

Harry stared at him. "No?" he said. "Merlin, Blaise, what have _your_ guardians been teaching you?"

The other boy scoffed a little and turned to walk out the door. "Just come on," he said. "Before everyone's left for class."

Notes: Hopefully that wasn't too awkward and abrupt, I promise next chapter will be better and longer. Let me know what you thought, and if you're still here!


	6. Chapter 6

Summary: After Vernon leaves, Petunia and the boys move in with vampire Amar, Petunia's old college friend. This brings into being a much more cheerful Harry, with many unusual habits. Happily dark Harry. Probably slash.

Rating: T just to be safe, might change later on

Will contain: Snape, somewhat pleasant Slytherins, purebloods, shifting staircases, competitions, hidden passages, first days, socializing, possible friendships, and a happily dark Harry, for the most part.

Notes: On a completely unrelated note to this story, I recently shaved off all of my hair. It was very liberating. I highly recommend it.

Don't forget to review!

 **Your House is Aflame**

Despite Blaise's best efforts, they missed breakfast and barely made it to class as it was. The only thing that saved them was, in Harry's mind, some rather ingenious improvising on his part. This mainly consisted of dragging Blaise through the hidden passage to the third floor Charms corridor, and subsequently avoiding the all of the 142 moving stair cases and the throng of students trying to catch a glimpse of Harry.

Much to their surprise, they discovered that they were actually the first people to class.

"Bravo," Flitwick said, to Blaise's shock. "That will be five points to each of you for your ingenuity."

"Ingenuity?" Blaise sputtered.

Flitwick gave the boys an amused smile. "Why, for taking the passage instead of seeing how you would fare against the staircases. I have to say though; I hadn't expected it quite so soon."

"What?" Blaise managed to get out.

Harry, on the other hand, was looking quite pleased with himself. "Is it some sort of competition then?" Harry asked, taking a seat and dumping his book bag on the floor. He did rather hope so. He enjoyed competitions to some degree, and Blaise had said that he ought to be trying to earn points for Slytherin.

"Competition?" Blaise echoed.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," Flitwick praised. "Yes, I do believe it is. You may not have noticed yet, but Hogwarts is quite full of surprises. You might even say the castle is rather mischievous. Moving staircases, doors that won't open unless you ask politely. Why, there's even doors that aren't doors at all!"  
Blaise, who appeared to have recovered sometime during this short, impromptu speech, slid into the seat beside Harry and asked, "Then what are they?"

"They're just solid walls pretending," said another voice, young and female. "Hullo Professor, Zabini, Harry."

"Hullo Milli," Harry said cheerfully, patting the seat on his other side.

"Very good, Miss Bulstrode," Flitwick cried. "One point to Slytherin. Did you happen to run into any such walls?"

Millicent sat down. "Several," she said dryly. "And it seems as though everything has moved around some since yesterday."

"Ah, yes," Flitwick said wisely. "That does tend to happen. Tell me, how did you find the classroom?"

"I asked one of the portraits if they could point me in the right direction."

"How clever! Another point to Slytherin!"

At this, Blaise stared outright. He seemed to be caught somewhere between hopelessly lost and vaguely impressed, and it left his face in a sort of odd place. "Professor," he said, in a carefully controlled voice. "I'm afraid I don't understand what's going on."

"Of course, of course. Potter, you seem to have caught on. Would you care to enlighten your friend?"

Harry beamed. "Certainly," he said happily. "Professor Flitwick is the Head of Ravenclaw. Finding the classroom is some sort of test, measuring our intelligence."

"And what," Blaise said, most assuredly not whimpering, "Does arriving first have to do with intelligence?" He seemed to be on the verge on realizing that life at Hogwarts was not going to be anything like what he had imagined, and did not know just how to resign himself to this fact.

"Mr. Zabini," Flitwick said patiently. "Intelligence is not just a matter of book smarts and applied learning. I should hope your time at Hogwarts will not only teach you magic, but also how to be free thinkers and problem solvers. Simply knowing how to do magic will not help you when you go to face the real world."

On one side, Harry seemed to be hanging on to their Professor's every word, looking fascinated. On the other sat Blaise, his confusion fading into thoughtfulness as he considered the words. Milli simply pursed her lips, not displeased, exactly, just considering.

Silence reigned over the next few minutes until a bushy haired Gryffindor girl stumbled into the room, appearing on the verge of tears. "Professor," she said in a trembling voice. "I've just come from the staircases, and it's awful! There's vanishing steps half way up! Isn't that dangerous?!"

"Ah, Miss Granger," Flitwick said calmly. "How good of you to join us. The steps didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

And so it went.

Charms left Harry somewhat disappointed that he hadn't ended up in Ravenclaw, but he quickly realized that Flitwick would likely expect much more from his own students as far as cleverness went, and he wasn't entirely sure he could live up to those standards.

No more points were rewarded for arriving intact, but it was made known immediately that points would be awarded to the first three people who showed up to class, depending on how they managed to get there.

Harry was delighted. Of course, he and Milli certainly had an advantage, being able to explore the castle by night, and so did Blaise, by default.

Personally, Harry was quite pleased with the way things were turning out, and he wondered if the other classes would be the same. Blaise, however, seemed to be hoping that classes would not be similar.

History of Magic was a little trickier to find, as was Herbology, but only because it took some time to find their way through the castle and out the doors. Once outside, though, it was pretty straight forward. Harry was as disappointed by these classes as Blaise seemed relieved.

History of Magic was taught by a ghost who called them all by the wrong names and spent the period rambling on about the goblin wars. If Harry could have slept, he would have fallen asleep in that class. As it was, he spent the time watching Blaise furiously scribble down notes. Every so often, the boy whispered to himself, "do well in your classes, get points for Slytherin, make good connections," like it was his personal mantra.

It seemed the idea that finding the Charms classroom was somehow a measure of his intelligence seemed to have shaken him.

They had Herbology three times a week. It seemed to Harry to mostly be an overview of magical plants and their uses, and he was wholly disappointed to find that they didn't actually get to work with said plants until their second year. Instead, they would be learning how to care for Muggle plants first, to get something of a foundation.

Harry's nights were a completely different story. They had to study the night sky on Wednesday's at midnight, and this was easy enough to fit into his schedule. But it did make it slightly more difficult to find a new way to Charms on Thursday's, what with not being able to spend the night exploring.

It was more difficult to creep out of his dormitory every night than what he'd anticipated, and even more difficult to sneak around the castle without getting caught. Filch and Mrs. Norris seemed to be around every corner, and Peeves was always ready to announce their presence.

Even the portraits seemed to have something against students out of bed, and it seemed they had no qualms about alerting the teachers about the problem.

It turned out that the suits of armor were also animated, and while they didn't speak, they could move around and rattle their limbs and sometimes even draw their swords.

While Harry was still just as delighted with magic as he was the day he found out about Amar's secret magic shop, but some part of him was beginning to question the sanity of the teachers and other adults in charge of running the school, as well as Amar for sending him here.

No doubt about it, Hogwarts was dangerous.

The entire castle seemed to be designed to teach people to react quickly. To think fast. It never really seemed to settle, not even at night.

But then, Harry supposed that Hogwarts had been built in a different time.

Maybe back then it was dangerous to think that you were ever completely safe.


End file.
